Things Would Be Different This Time
by starsandabutterfly
Summary: Snapshots from the life Denny and Izzie should've had AU after 2x27 "Losing My Religion"
" _Once upon a time there was a boy who loved a girl, and her laughter was a question he wanted to spend his whole life answering."_
—Nicole Krauss, _The History of Love_

* * *

Izzie walks into Denny's room with the intention of showing off her dress, maybe sneaking a few kisses in, and then leaving in an attempt to win the Chief's good favor by making an appearance at his niece's prom.

Two hours later she's still there, curled against Denny's side on the tiny bed, mindful of the tender, bright red incision hiding under his hospital gown.

She's tried to leave a few times, wary of the Chief's wrath that her absence will cause, but Denny manages to sneak _just a few more minutes_ out of her every time.

What can she say? He's very tricky.

* * *

During the long weeks before Denny is discharged, Izzie copes with Dr. Bailey and the Chief's strict visiting hours by bribing the nurses with cupcakes. In exchange, they let Izzie see her fiancé whenever she pleases, which happens to be all the time.

Nonetheless, she sneaks out of his room whenever they page her to warn her that Bailey's coming. She'll grab all her stuff and hide in an on-call room until either visiting hours start or Bailey leaves, whichever comes first, then she casually walks into his room like she hasn't been there since six A.M.

After a few weeks of doing this, Bailey's finally able to catch her with a coat she'd left behind in her haste.

Denny's insistence that, _yes, Dr. Bailey, that coat is mine, no – no, definitely not Izzie's, I've owned that coat for years, and I'm a bit chilly so if you'd hand it back to me_ is further proof that she couldn't find a better man, even if she wanted to.

Dr. Bailey proves him wrong when she finds Izzie's name neatly written on the tag, but it's the thought that counts.

* * *

Once they get over the shock of him being alive, healthy, and soon to be married, his parents nag him about Izzie, bringing up things like workaholic tendencies and the long, random hours her surgical career will bring. They question her intentions and aren't comforted by his defense that he hasn't even told her about the money yet.

His mom warns him that she may not want children for years to come and really, he isn't getting any younger, at which point his dad starts complaining about the age difference again.

(Logically, he knows they've missed him the past five years and it's his fault they're using this opportunity to make up for half a decade of nagging in a single conversation.)

But he can't help but be frustrated at them for not falling in love with Izzie as quickly as he has.

He thinks about his smells-like-Izzie sweater and the sound of her laugh when he says something corny and her smug grin when she kicks his ass at scrabble and really, who else could there possibly be?

* * *

Of course, once his parents fly out to Seattle and see all these things for themselves, they conveniently forget all of their qualms.

* * *

When Denny is discharged, Izzie convinces him to ditch his apartment and move into Meredith's with her _temporarily, I swear, just until you've convinced me you've recovered enough not to necessitate being surrounded by people all the time, surgeons at that. Then we'll find our dream house and get married and have babies and –_

He stops her then. After everything she's had to convince him of when shit hit the fan, living with her friends for a few months to ease her mind is a no-brainer.

* * *

The first day Izzie lets him leave the house by himself, Denny says he's going to the store to buy groceries.

He dutifully comes back with all the items she put on the list, plus a $15,000 engagement ring.

That's the same day he clues her in about what exactly he meant all those months ago when he said _I'm well-off, but not into money._

There are a lot of serious conversations to come about his money, like how much to donate to charity, how much should go towards their wedding, should any be given to her mom, and the easy agreement that some be set aside for their children's futures, but when he asks her _so goddamn casually_ if she needs any to pay for medical school she laughs at the irony until tears stream down her face.

* * *

Their first time could've gone a million different ways. They tossed innuendos back and forth when he was in the hospital, but when he came home those suggestions took on an altogether different tone: when he was still banned from _strenuous activity_ he would whisper the possibilities in her ear late at night, his fingers teasingly exploring her until she begged.

He was particularly fond of the scenario where they find a secluded place to park on the way home from the appointment where Dr. Burke clears him, but for some reason she isn't amused when he suggests it.

As it is, fumbling around in the dark while trying to stay quiet so as not to alert her housemates to their activities isn't exactly how either of them imagined it would go, but after, when he holds himself above her and kisses her once on the lips so, so softly, well, neither of them would have it any other way.

* * *

Living together at Meredith's is fun until suddenly it isn't. Izzie could lie to herself and say she has no idea why it's suddenly awkwardly cramped there but she won't. She knows Denny's recovery has been divided in two: before sex and after sex.

Before Dr. Burke very awkwardly said he could resume any and all physical activities in which he might want to partake, Denny was the perfect roommate: He brought a fancy flat screen TV with him from his old apartment, on which he and George would watch football every Sunday; he fixed the leaky sink in the downstairs bathroom that had stumped them for months, and, most generously, would greet them at the end of a long shift with home cooked meals for the whole house.

So, yeah, dream roommate.

But once he gets the go-ahead on sex, Denny Duquette becomes a man on a mission. Not that he wasn't before. Before he was determined to charm everybody in the house, knowing full-well how important it was to keep her friends on his good side; now he's dedicated all his time and energy on seducing Izzie Stevens.

So the fun, casual atmosphere they had going at Meredith's for almost two months quickly dissipates, and Izzie and Denny would mourn its passing if they weren't both _so freaking happy._

* * *

Still, Izzie puts off moving out, afraid that this'll all go away the moment she acknowledges its permanence.

Then Cristina walks into the bathroom while Denny's showering and Izzie finally admits that, afraid or not, they _really_ need to get their own place.

* * *

In all of her past relationships, fights have been loud and fast. They've been painful but not in the gut-wrenching, tear jerking, soul crushing way that she and Denny fight.

Their fights are drawn out, slow in a way they can only bear because they know the rift will end eventually, and it's better to argue thoughtfully, rather than spit out words just to make the other hurt.

Their first fight is about the daughter she didn't tell him about.

She waited too long to tell him, and she knows it.

Izzie knows that Denny's hurt and confused that she waited so long to tell him. She knows he thought they already knew everything important about each other. She agreed to marry him, to spend her life with him, to have his children without bothering to tell him she's already had someone else's.

She'd been building up the courage to tell him for a long time; she knows she probably should've somewhere between Good luck with that and I choose you but it's easy to blame her omission on the ticking time bomb in his chest. She wouldn't want to be responsible for a heart attack if she interrupted a peaceful, friendly game of scrabble with _oh, and by the way, I got knocked up at sixteen, pass the Jello, please._

Izzie tells him all this and more. She talks through the night, fast as if she's making up for lost time, but still quietly, as though it might make the story less painful.

It doesn't.

But sometime between dusk and dawn Denny's demeanor shifts: the tense lines around his eyes gradually soften; his pacing slows; his arms once again welcome her in a comforting embrace.

The sun rises and their relationship changes with the day.

* * *

Izzie and Denny work so well together because they take turns: he wants things to move quickly (impulsivity is a side-effect of almost dying) while she holds out as long as she can bear before admitting to herself that _yes, this is right, this isn't stupid, this is necessary_ (caution is a lesson she had to learn when she was 16 and the stick turned pink)

So he waits like he always does and she delays even though she doesn't want to until suddenly she _needs_ to move forward.

So they do.

* * *

 _I wanted to tell you I changed._  
 _I wanted to tell you that things would be different this time._  
 _I see you, you see me,_  
 _Differently._


End file.
